


Aftermath

by runaanandharrow



Series: Star Wars Fics [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Consent, Had too many thoughts in brain, Just Writing Whatever, M/M, Multi, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Parenthood, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runaanandharrow/pseuds/runaanandharrow
Summary: Din has lost his teether, after everything that has happened. After losing his ship, his child, his Creed, his covert . . . everything.Boba wants to be that teether, to take Din apart and put him back together in the aftermath. But Boba rarely gets what he wants, and the not-quite-Mandalorian does not know how exactly to help or approach this man with a much stricter creed than his own.Maybe, with some patience and understanding, things can take a turn for the best.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Boba Fett/Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Boba Fett/Cobb Vanth
Series: Star Wars Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129979
Kudos: 60





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I just couldn't stop thinking about the Boba/Din pairing, and the Din/Boba/Cobb ship, so this happened. Cobb is not in this chapter, but he will appear later. And in the course of writing this first smut chapter, I kind of accidently decided this will be a plot-type thing, though I have yet to plan anything out. I also have no posting schedule, because life, so I am sorry in advance if this ends up always being a WIP. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, Mando'a Used in this Fic:  
> Ad - Child, son/daughter  
> Dar’manda - a state of being "not Mandalorian"; not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and soul  
> Haat Mando’ade - “True Mandalorians”; a sect of Mando’ade who followed the ways of Jaster Mereel during and following the Mandalorian civil war.  
> Jate - Good; used for “calm” a lot.  
> Jate cyar’ika. Tion jate? - Good, sweetheart/darling/beloved. You good?  
> Jetii - Jedi  
> Osik - Shit (the website literally says “Dung (Impolite)” lmao)  
> Su cuy'gar - Hello; literally “So you’re still alive”

The other Mando hadn’t said a word since they had left Morak, and Boba was beginning to worry about him. Mando was not particularly talkative in the first place, the the silent stillness was more than just a peaceful quiet from the past few days. This stillness was the kind of stillness that came from something wrong. Boba had seen it before in other Mandalorians; the mask hid their faces so well that they all got used to just emoting through their body, showing every little emotion and feeling in the tiniest movements, or lack thereof. 

Once they were in hyperspace again, Boba kicked the others into the passenger hold and closed the hatch to the cockpit behind them. Fennec had given him a  _ look _ on the way down, and Boba was disappointed to find out that his glare didn’t work nearly as well through his visor as it did without the helmet. She was getting too familiar, but he found he didn’t mind. Mando had stayed quiet the whole time the others left, not even seeming to notice their departure. Boba dropped back into the pilot chair and swiveled to look at Mando. 

“Spit it out; what’s wrong?” Boba kept his eyes on the visor where Mando’s eyes would be. Boba knew better than most just how well Mandalorians could avoid the subject of a question if they wanted to. His father had been a master at it, even going so far as to lie to Obi-Wan Kenobi’s face. He wasn’t about to let this Mando do the same. 

Boba’s firm tone finally drew a response from Mando. With a slight tilt of his helmet, Mando turned to look at Boba, his shoulders shaking with the crackling breath he drew through his vocoder. He seemed to start and stop a few times, almost as if he couldn’t force himself to say what he needed to say. Boba had almost given up when Mando’s quiet voice came through, and nearly missed it as he had gone to prompt Mando to speak again. 

“I . . . I’m  _ dar’manda. _ ” 

Boba froze, not sure how to respond to such a thing. What the kriff happened on Morak?! Boba had managed to gleam over the last few days on the ship with Mando that the other Mandolarian was much more . . . conserative than the  _ Haat Mando’ade,  _ but he still could not begin to understand how Mando could be  _ dar’manda _ . He stood, stepping closer to Mando so he could kneel next to the co-pilot seat. His knee complained loudly - it hadn’t been the same since escaping the sarlacc, but he guessed that was a product of his age - but he ignored his pain in favor of focusing on Mando. The younger man needed him right now.  __

Mando’s head had dropped again, eyes no doubt glued to the floor, but Boba reached out with his gloved hand to gently tilt the helmet until the shadow of Mando’s eyes met his. “What happened?” He reached out, taking Mando’s hands in his. The gentle swipe of his thumb back and forth over Mando’s was as much to ground Boba as it was to grown Mando. 

Mando’s shoulders hunched up as the younger man tried to hide in his own armor. The hands in Boba’s gripped so hard that Boba was genuinely worried for his own circulation for a moment. “I removed my helmet.” Boba had to strain and resist the urge to turn up his audio sensors just to hear Mando. “T-the terminal needed to scan a face, and Mayfeld couldn’t do it, and I had to get Grogu back, so I had to take my helmet off.” Boba was startled to see the shining gleam of tears reflecting back the lights of hyperspace past Mando’s visor. “I had to do it.” 

Before he could think it through, Boba had pressed the front of his helmet to Mando’s. The other man gasped before hesitantly, slowly returning the soft pressure against Boba’s forehead. The Keldabe kiss was so much more intimate than Boba could have imagined; simply knowing that the other man beyond the helmet, even if Boba never saw him unmasked, was pressing back against him, baring his failings to Boba as Boba held him together. 

Mando released a quiet sob, barely caught by his vocoder, and Boba bundled the other into his arms. It was made awkward by their armor, Mando’s being taller than Boba, and Boba kneeling in front of Mando, but he made it work. With careful movement, Boba tucked the other into in arms, Mando’s head resting on Boba’s shoulder as he seemed to try to melt into Boba’s own armor. 

  
“Oh, Mando.” Boba’s voice was low, only enough for the two of them to hear. “You removed your helmet for your _ad,_ how can that be wrong?” One of his hands moved to gently cup the back of Mando’s neck, as one of the only parts of a Mando’a’s body that he could reach that wasn’t covered in armor. “I may not be an authority on the matter, but I would not call you _dar’manda_.” 

Mando was quiet for a bit, just pressed against Boba as he dragged in desperate lungfuls of air and sobbed out his grief. This man had lost everything, as far as Boba knew; his covert, his ship, his son was given to a  _ Jetii,  _ and now apparently he had lost his creed. Or, Mando thought he had. Boba had been in his place. And so Boba would hold Mando as he shattered, and put the pieces back together when it was over. “Just hold onto me, Mando.” 

“Din.” Mando’s voice was shaky and broken, but the man managed to take a deep enough breath once again so he could continue. “My name is Din Djarin.” He said it with such a  _ weight _ , as if his name was a gift. So Boba treated it as such; he memorized the sound of Din’s name coming from Din’s voice, felt the shape of it in his own mouth, and carefully said, “Din, then.  _ Su cuy'gar,  _ Din.” 

Din sat up at that - they were both kneeling on the floor now, Din pressing closer to Boba - and slowly, cautiously pressed the front of his helmet to Boba’s. The soft imitation of their earlier kiss made both their breathing hitch, hands gripping tighter as they pressed to one another. 

“Make me forget.” Din squeezed Boba’s hand where it was held in his. Boba found himself wanting to give into the quiet plea, but Din seemed to sense his hesitance. “Please. Just . . . I need to think about something else right now. Or not at all.” Din’s hands moved to Boba’s waist, his head dropping to Boba’s shoulder. “Please.” 

Boba didn’t let go, but he still hesitated. He couldn’t be sure that Din was in the right frame of mind for this kind of thing right now. Or if Boba himself was thinking along the same lines as Din. Without moving, Boba asked, “What do you need from me, Din? I need you to be clear.” Din answered him by straddling Boba’s thighs, a soft pleading noise escaping. “Please.” Din pressed his helmet to Boba’s. “Just  _ touch  _ me. Make it all stop.” 

Boba nodded gently against Din, pulling the other man to stand. Din whimpered when Boba stepped back, but Boba gently soothed him, whispering “ _ Jate, Jate, _ ” as he stepped back to sit in the pilot’s chair. Over the years, Jango and Boba had had the chair modified, made larger and easier to sleep in. Boba had also found it made things like this easier. Din landed in his lap once more, thighs spread wide as they framed Boba, hips pressed together. 

As Din reached for the fastenings on Boba’s trousers, Boba stilled him, making sure their visors met. “Helmets; what are we doing?” He pressed against Din’s helmet. “I am fine either way, but I know you are a Child of the Watch.” He ran his hand gently over the small of Din’s back, eliciting a shiver. “I need to know your limits, if we are going to do this.” He bucked against Din’s hand when it wrapped carefully around his cock through the fabric of his kute. He let out an involuntary gasp when Din  _ squeezed _ , putting pressure in all the right places, and struggled not to just pull Din closer and forget his question. Instead, he pinned Din’s hands together, holding them back as the taller man whined. “ _ Din.  _ I need to know what you want.” 

Din took a second to collect himself, breaths crackingly through the vocoder as he panted. “Helmet on.” Boba nodded; he had assumed that was a given. A few more panted breaths passed before Din added “I will tell you if something is wrong.” 

Boba kept staring into the dark visor. “Will you?” Din whimpered again and strained against Boba’s grip. Boba shook him lightly, not letting go. “Will you tell me, Din?” Din nodded, quiet, frantic whispers of, “ _ yes, yes, please, just let me touch you”  _ making themselves known and Boba finally released Din, letting him tear at the cloth covering Boba. 

Boba reached around Din, ignoring the quiet curses as Din had to shift positions to keep stable, and popped open a drawer under the pilot’s console. He grabbed an old bottle of lube - still good, from the date on the side - and sat back, catching Din’s attention again as Din began slowly running his fist along Boba’s cock. Boba groaned, a huffy, satisfied thing. “Are you clean? I was last I checked, and not many partners to be found in the desert.” Din chuckled and nodded, twisting his hand when it passed over the head. Boba swore and bucked again, tearing one of his gloves off to slick his hand and join Din. 

After a few moments of blissful passes that made Boba squirm, Boba used his free hand to rip at Din’s kute and pull his cock out to join Boba’s. The both moaned, Din squirming in his grip, as Boba lined them up so they both had a hand on the other. A liberal drizzling of lube from the bottle made the glide even smoother, and shay panting filled the cockpit as they both thrust into their combined hands. 

Boba found himself staring up at Din, taking in everything about this man he was allowed to have. His quiet moans, the stuttering way his hips flexed to push closer to Boba, the blaster calluses on his hand that Boba could feel scratch against his head as Din stroked him. Boba pressed closer, setting his helmet against Din’s so he could feel closer to this man. Din mesmerized him, drew him in in ways that no organic had in  _ years _ . “Din.” Boba exhaled his name like a prayer, a soft puff of air against his vocoder. “I’m close.” 

Din nodded, tightening his grip at the same time that Boba reached down to fondle Din balls gently, and they both groaned, panting again as Din murmured quiet pleas. A few more twisting strokes, and Boba came with a shout, spilling onto both their hands as he continued stroking until Din was pulled over the edge with him. Din whimpered, dropping his helmet to rest on Boba’s shoulder. He thrust a few more times, tiny twitches of his hips, before they both stilled, breathing together. Everything seemed to echo in Boba’s helmet, everything becoming overly loud, but also washing a sense of calm over him.

They sat together, breaths slowing and skin cooling, for a bit, Boba holding Din close. After a few moments, Boba turned to bring his cheek next to Din’s and bring them both closer. He chuckled quietly, and murmured “ _ Jate, cyar’ika. Tion jate? _ ” He lifted his clean hand to rest on the back of Din’s neck in a gentle, stabilizing hold.  _ I’m here, if you need me still.  _ His thumb swept back and forth over the loose muscles there. 

Din suddenly tensed and stood, righting himself and his armor without a word. Boba sat, stunned for moment, and stared at where Din’s whole body seemed to tense up as the other Mandalorian pulled himself together. Boba sat up, straightening himself out, and murmured, “Din, are you alright?” He stood to face Din where he had stepped behind the pilot’s chair, and Din tensed again. Boba froze, not daring to move any closer. Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? Before Boba could ask anything else, Din stammered, “I-I, look Boba, I-” He cut himself off and shook his head. 

With a soft hiss, the hatch to the cockpit opened, and Din disappeared down it. The hatch whooshed closed behind him, and Boba was left staring, dumbfounded, at an empty cockpit. 

  
“What the _osik_ just happened?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The second chapter is already in the works, so hopefully I can post it fairly soon-ish. We'll see how my writing goes. 
> 
> Mando'a Used in this Fic:  
> Ad - Child, son/daughter  
> Dar’manda - a state of being "not Mandalorian"; not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and soul  
> Haat Mando’ade - “True Mandalorians”; a sect of Mando’ade who followed the ways of Jaster Mereel during and following the Mandalorian civil war.  
> Jate - Good; used for “calm” a lot.  
> Jate cyar’ika. Tion jate? - Good, sweetheart/darling/beloved. You good?  
> Jetii - Jedi  
> Osik - Shit (the website literally says “Dung (Impolite)” lmao)  
> Su cuy'gar - Hello; literally “So you’re still alive”


End file.
